Flutterings
by Little Miss Illusional
Summary: (or The Five Times Jay and Theresa Should Have Kissed and the One Time They Did).


A/N: It's been a while. Opps. My bad.

I have been neglecting my writing, and I'm truly sorry about that. For those of you who follow my Tumblr, you might already know, but I've started uni this year, and let me tell you, uni is _hard_. But I'm loving it all.

I'm not making any promises about Series Three or when I'll start on that again. I'm still quite hurt about the hate I got for parts of that, so you'll just have to wait until I'm in a better headspace for resuming that. For now, enjoy this 3000 word fic with the "five times" prompt.

* * *

Flutterings

_(Or The Five Times Jay and Theresa Should Have Kissed and the One Time They Did)_

* * *

He found her out in the cool night air of the rooftop terrace. She'd been quiet all day – though he'd put it down to first day at a new school nerves. Zeus, they'd all been nervous. But he had thought Theresa, who seemed to be so confident in everything she did, would have been okay with it all. Perhaps he'd gotten her wrong when he'd mentally assessed his teammates.

"This seat taken?" he asked, and sat down anyway. She nodded a second or so later, and watched as he settled into one of the plastic white chairs. One of her hands was propping up her head, while the other traced a swirling pattern along the white edge of the table.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked gently, watching her slow hand movements.

She stopped and looked up at him. "Nothing's wrong, Jay," she said, a little too quickly. She sighed and resumed her tracing.

"Today was hard," he mused, watching her for a reaction. "I hate the first day back. Really didn't help that we were new kids, right?"

Theresa nodded but didn't look up.

"And what's with the timetable at this place, huh?" he pressed on, making conversation in an attempt to draw her out of the little cocoon of silence. "Double English every Monday? That sucks. It's like all the horror of having an hour and twenty minutes of English, but twice! Can't be any worse than having Math last on a Friday, though, like at my old school. That was the _worst_." He glanced at her hopefully.

"It's weird having to choose what I wear every day," she said finally, still not looking at him. "My old school had a uniform. I prefer this, though. It'll give me a reason to go shopping every other weekend."

Jay raised an eyebrow. "You're a private school girl?"

Theresa laughed. "Don't hold it against me."

It was nice to hear her laugh. She had a rather nice laugh, he realised – all bell-like and sincere, unlike Neil's sarcastic pangs of amusement, and more gentle than Herry's booming. Theresa's laugh was a genuine, full-blown affair. Jay quite liked it.

She looked up at him. In the low light, her eyes seemed to sparkle with stars. If he looked closely, he could see their constellations and patterns, like pinpricks of light.

"Thanks, Jay." She murmured, smiling softly. Her hands had stopped tracing. "I know what you're doing, and thank you."

His heart fluttered a little.

* * *

A little patch of fresh mud was tracked into the carpet outside her door. She scowled and looked down the hall, to another fresh mud stain. Someone had tracked mud through the house, and Athena would be furious.

Theresa closed her bedroom door and followed the mud – footprints, she now realised – down the hall, to where they disappeared into a closed doorway. Hesitantly, she stood outside it for a moment, and then knocked.

Jay opened the door after a moment, wild eyed and a bit flustered. "Theresa?" he asked, a little breathlessly. His hair was sticking up at all angles.

"Hi!" she said, her heart beating quicker as she took in his wild appearance. "Sorry, is this a bad time…?"

He shook his head quickly. "Um… no. I just… woke up. That's all."

She gestured vaguely to him. "In the morning, are you always this… riled up?"

Jay cocked his head, grinning slightly. "'Riled up'?"

Theresa laughed. "It's a phrase, okay?"

She stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do – and especially with her hands. She crossed them across her chest, tucking in her hands beneath her armpits, then uncrossed them and let them dangle at her sides. Jay shifted from one foot to the next and watched her as she fluttered and flustered, right in front of him.

"What do you want, Theresa?" Jay asked slowly, frowning ever so slightly.

She couldn't help but notice his hands – clenched at his sides, rough and strong. Her hands were so dainty and smooth compared to his.

Peeling her eyes away from his hands, she met his eyes again. "I'm not sure," Theresa answered, finally, as untruthful as ever. Because she wanted to kiss him quite badly – she had wanted to kiss him the moment she'd met him. She couldn't tell him, though, because, well, what if he didm't want to kiss her?

Jay sighed and raked a hand through his hair. Theresa tried not to follow the movement of his arm, nor the way his fingers tangled in his already quite messy hair.

She was started to find it very hard to resist running her own hands through his hair.

"We should probably get ready," Jay said, already turning away. "Training at ten, don't forget."

"I won't," she promised.

Sighing, she glanced into the corridor, stared into it for a while, and walked back to her own room.

"Damnit, Jay." she murmured.

* * *

_Damnit, Theresa_, Jay thought, watching the redhead from across the library. _Damn_it.

She hadn't noticed him yet, and as he sunk further into his seat, he kind of hoped she didn't. The past couple of weeks had been tense between them, and it really didn't help that his little crush on the team's psychic seemed to be growing to a full-blown love obsession, or whatever.

He couldn't help it. He knew he wasn't supposed to see her – or any other girl, for that matter – in the way her saw Theresa. They all teased him for being too focused on their destiny, but he had to be focused; he was their 'leader'.

But _dammit_, why did she have to be so damn beautiful?

Jay was no stranger to beautiful girls. He'd dated, back at his old school, and some of his past girlfriends had been A grade hot. But they were nothing, _nothing_, like Theresa. She was so effortless, so unassuming, so passionate and slightly terrifying all at once.

He looked up from behind the book he hadn't realised he'd been hiding behind, and that was enough to catch her eye. His stomach sank - and fluttered as it fell - as she saw him, smiled, and walked over.

"Hi, Jay!" she said brightly, her eyes sparkling a little.

"Hi, Theresa," he replied dully, trying to ignore the sweat in his palms – and the tightening in his crotch_. Damnit, dammit, dammit_.

She settled her books from her bag to the table, and gestured to his hands. "Good book?"

Jay blinked, and quickly looked at the title. _'The Complete Sonnets of William Shakespeare'_ stared back at him.

"It's alright," he answered, not remembering any of the words now that she was in her presence.

Theresa nodded. "For English class, right?" They'd been assigned various works of the American and English canons for the upcoming midterm. Jay had lucked out and got the sonnets – less reading, he'd figured, but he'd been sorely mistaken when their teacher had left the old book with a crumbling spine on his desk. Theresa, if he remembered correctly, had gotten The Great Gatsby and was rather pleased with herself.

"Yeah. He's a bit wordy. But I like it." Jay shrugged. He didn't really mind Shakespeare – unlike Neil, or Archie, who complained about him in class at every opportunity.

Theresa smiled. "I love that sonnet – the summer one…" she pursued her lip as she remembered, "… _'shall I compare thee to a summer's day_'…"

"_'Thou art more lovely and more temperate'_, I know." Jay smiled too. "It's a good one."

"Yeah."

They fell into an uneasy silence. Theresa opened her book, and Jay went back to his. He flicked through the pages until he got to what he was looking for _– Sonnet 18_. _Theresa loved it_. His heart flickered a little.

_Damnit_.

He knew he shouldn't be thinking of her in any sense other than a friend and a teammate. He didn't have time for girlfriends – or so Hera told him, anyway. Besides, he couldn't treat her any differently to the others, not if he wanted the team to stay as strong as they were. _Relationships had no part in a good team_, Hera had told him. Hera always knew best.

_Maybe not always_? his heart suggested, but he hadn't listened to his heart ever since he'd arrived in New Olympia, so why should he start now?

"Good book?" he asked, slicing through the silence suddenly. Anything to get himself out of his head.

Theresa shrugged. " It's okay. I was thinking go going to see the movie, actually." She looked at her fingers, fiddling with a ring. "On Saturday."

He could see what she was doing. He wasn't blind to her affections. But dammit, Theresa, he sure as Hades couldn't _act_ on them.

_Mind if I tag along?_ his heart whispered to her.

_I'll go with you_, his mind screamed.

"That's nice," his mouth said, the stubborn little voice dutifully responding with the usual tactlessness.

If she was disappointed (he was sure she was – because _he_ was), she didn't show it. Theresa just nodded, and went back to her book.

* * *

Her book was perched on top of the fridge; she had no idea how it'd gotten there, or who had put it there in the first place. She suspected Herry, who was probably the only one out of her housemates that could even place a book that high, but what would the brawn want with F. Scott Fitzgerald's most famous work?

She scowled and wondered how she was going to reach it. Even on the tips of her toes (thank Zeus for all her years of ballet), she could barely reach the middle of the freezer. She could just 'will' it down, but she was still only just developing her telekinesis, and even the slightest use of her new powers drained her energy completely.

The fruit bowl was on the bench across from the fridge - and she spied a lone banana in the bowl. With the extra inches, perhaps she could just pry the book towards her… it was the best plan she had.

With the banana in hand, she stood on her tippy-toes and reached for the book. She felt the tip of the banana graze the side of the book - success! But it wasn't enough leverage to pull the book into her reach. She swore and stretched as far as she could, and added a little jump to her efforts. Again, the book would not budge.

It was in this stance, stretched out and pressed up against the fridge, on her toes, banana in hand and cursing, that Jay found her. He blinked rapidly for a few seconds, cocked his head, went to say something, but didn't. There really wasn't much he could say.

"Urgh!" Theresa groaned, slamming her free hand onto the side of the fridge.

"Need a hand?" Jay finally said, bemused out of his mind.

Theresa spun around, banana in hand and eyes wild with surprise. "Jay!" she exclaimed, a blush spreading through her cheeks. "I… how long have you been standing there?"

Jay shrugged, crossing his arms. A small smile danced across his mouth.

She bit her bottom lip out of habit. _Great_, she thought to herself. _Ten points, Theresa. Now he's really going to think you're super cool. Awesome job. Not_.

"Do you want help with… whatever you're doing?" Jay asked, still grinning.

"I'm trying to get my book down," she explained. "And yes, a little help would be excellent."

He strode over and reached up. Theresa tried to ignore how his sweater rode up and exposed his perfectly muscled stomach. _Stop it, Theresa_, she told herself.

"I can't reach it," he said, pulling his arm away and straightening up his clothes. She let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding in. "Maybe if I lift you up…?"

Theresa's eyes widened. "Oh. That could work!"

Slowly, he placed his hands – his rough-and-smooth, calloused-and-strong hands – on her hips. His warm fingers touched the bare skin of her stomach below the end of her shirt, and she shivered and tried to look at anywhere but his eyes.

"Turn around," Jay said in a strained voice. She nodded, not trusting her own voice, and faced the fridge. Feeling his arms clench, she bent her knees slightly, and jumped, reaching her arms out to the top of the fridge. Jay lifted her up, and she snatched up the book quickly, letting him lower her back onto her feet. She turned around and smiled at him.

"Thanks," she murmured, clutch the book to her chest with both hands. His hands were still on her waist.

Their eyes were locked, brown on green, silently daring each other to move out (or further _into_) the embrace.

The front door burst open, and teenage voices and bodies spilled in. "ARCHIE, GIVE IT BACK!" They heard Atlanta yell, as two sets of footsteps thundered up the stairs. "OI, HELP ME WITH THE SHOPPING!" Athena's voice commanded, and the footsteps returned.

Jay and Theresa looked at each other, wide eyed, and dove apart just as Athena, Herry, and a week's worth of groceries stumbled into the kitchen.

"Hiya," Athena greeted them, not noticing the fluster in either of their cheeks. "What have you two been up to?"

"Getting my book," Theresa replied hurriedly. "Um… do you know why it was on top of the fridge?"

Athena shrugged. "I was cleaning. It was on the table. It needed to go somewhere."

Theresa didn't even want to guess how the goddess, who was only slightly taller than her, had managed to get it on top of the fridge. She just nodded, holding the book closer to her. "I'd better get back to reading, then." she announced, watching Herry simultaneously unpack and eat a bag of muesli bars.

She offered an awkward smile to Jay on her way out. The leader shook his head, and messed up his hair.

His hair was wet and stuck to his forehead with a mixture of sweat and dirt. Adrenaline roared through his body like lightening. He could feel every inch of himself, and he committed it to the fight, feeling every bit of him alive and young.

Opposite him, her small hands gripping a training sword, Theresa grinned and flicked her hair out of her eyes. "Not getting tired, are we Jay?" she called, taunting him gently.

"You wish," he replied, tightening his grip around his own sword. The wooden handle of the training weapon wasn't as comfortable as his xyphos, but the duller edge was much more comforting. They were rather evenly matched, and he'd never allow himself to use a proper weapon against her.

_Or any of the others_, he reminded himself. His heart smirked knowingly.

"Try using the new combination," he instructed her. "And this time, don't watch your feet."

Theresa nodded and sprung at him suddenly, trying to catch him off guard with the pattern. He moved in time with her, blocking every stroke of her sword with a dull thud of wood against wood. He wasn't at all surprised to see a little savagery in her eyes. Theresa wouldn't give up until she had gotten at least one hit on him, he was sure of it.

She finished the combination and stepped back. Lowering her sword, she grimaced. "Can't you just pretend to be dazzled with my sword skills?" she asked, laughing a little.

"Cronus wouldn't," he answered, but he could have kicked himself for mentioning the god. Theresa scowled, as he knew she would, and raised her sword.

"Again." She called, and attacked.

This time, she caught him by surprise with her speed, whipping around him. He blocked her movements as best as he could, and then tried a different tactic. He caught her sword between his and his free hand, wincing with the collision, and pulled it toward him. Theresa lurched towards him, a noise of surprise escaping her as she crashed into him. As they fell, he twisted so that she fell first, with him pinning her down. Her sword was nowhere to be found.

"Gotcha," he murmured, looking down at her.

Theresa blinked at him, and for a second neither of them knew what to do, with his body pressed against hers and her arms pinned at her sides -

She kissed him.

The dull shock of her warm mouth on his lips hit him stronger than any sword. She - Theresa, beautiful, effortless Theresa – was kissing him, and so he kissed her back with everything he had. She moaned into his mouth for a moment, and it was like they were a single being, and nothing else mattered – not destiny, or Hera, or Cronus, or their team – only it was just them, and their mouths, and they were kissing.

He discarded his sword unceremoniously, flinging it off to the side, and kissed her hard with both his hands cupping her face. He groaned as her tongue danced across his lips. Zeus, what the thought of her tongue was doing to him…

She smirked through the smile and, with a small amount of pressure, rolled him over. Now on top of him, she continued kissing him, stroking his sweat-drenched stomach with her smooth fingers. His own were knotted in her hair, twisting themselves into her fiery orange waves.

Jay was the first to resurface for air. He gasped it in and felt her rest her head on his stomach as he breathed. His thoughts eventually came back to him, and he awkwardly looked up at her, perched against him, smiling almost sheepishly.

"Well, that's one way to beat me in a sword fight."

Jay laughed and untangled one of his hands. Gently, he pushed her off him, and sat up. She sat next to him, their bodies pressed together, and her head resting on his shoulder. He could feel her pulse, fluttering and falling – as he had for her.

Neither of them said a word.


End file.
